The Confession Of A Widower
by ariielschunard
Summary: Karofsky gets his revenge. Kurtofsky AU, future!fic. Rated K  for language.


_**A/N: Okay, this was a little inspired by 'Lolita' and I hope you guys like it.**_

_**Reviews and likes are always nice!**_

**The Confession Of A Widower**

I realize what I did was wrong. But if you ask me now, I don't regret it. Killing him, feeling his blood on the gun and under my nails was one of those feelings you can never forget. I can honestly say I've never felt so invincible in my entire life.

I promised I wouldn't hurt him as long as he didn't hurt Kurt. The moment he did it, however, I was ready to squeeze the life out of him.

And, like I said, I don't regret it.

I killed him on a Thursday. It was a sunny day and he walked looking down, his face hidden in his hands, completely drunk. He opened the door to his house and I waited until he was settled to knock on the door and roughly press my gun against his forehead.

I remember listening to his loud gulps and his nervous way of talking, of saying he was sorry, but I just changed the angle of the gun and looked right into his eyes.

"So you think you can hurt Kurt like you just did?", I asked, and he shook his head. "I hurt Kurt once, you know, but I wasn't his _anything _and I certainly did _not _try to rape him!"

The idiot's face turned red as he looked down and cried. He knew he was fucking wrong, he shouldn't have tried to have sex with Hummel if Hummel didn't want to. He knew how fucking nervous Kurt would get. Yet, he did it.

I slapped his face and waited for him to bleed. When the first drop of blood hit the ground, I looked into his eyes and finally let the shot ring out.

I was under no illusions to get Kurt to me. I realize he doesn't love me. He never did, never will. I actually don't give a fuck if I have to spend the rest of my life in a cell. I did something for love, and that bastard got what he deserved.

I really hope Kurt finds love, and someone that can give him more than I could possibly give, and more than that Blaine gave him.

After shooting his boyfriend, I looked for Kurt. We spent three hours talking, he sobbed in my arms, afraid to be so close to me, but in need of a friend. He talked to me about Blaine and I kissed the top of his head.

"Did you ever love me?", he asked me, breathing slowly.

"I still do. Did you...?", I asked, gulping. He shook his head, looking scared.

"No, I'm sorry, Dave, I don't love you", he said, sighing.

"Did you love Blaine?"

He looked down and nodded. "Yes, Dave, after all, he..."

_He was not scared to show me how he felt, and he took care of me, unlike you. _He never said that, but the words ring in my ears like he had said it.

I left and waited in front of Blaine's house for the police to come. They came and took the body away, and then knocked on my window. They asked if I knew something about the crime, and I confessed it. I wanted to be in jail. I never thought about a good college to go, and my parents had left me to live alone.

I spent seven hours at the police station, and my dad looked at me with disgust in his eyes. Of course, he didn't know.

I did what I did for love. I never thought I would love someone like Kurt, but I'm sure now I did. And the moment he kissed my cheek and said '_Thank you, Karofsky. Goodbye', _I felt as good as I'll ever feel, and I realize that.

They told me I'll have to spend at least thirty years in prision. I hope I die in here, so I can never see the judgement of people and their vicious words.

I pray to God this letter only gets published after I die, and I hope Kurt gets to see it. It would mean a lot to me, and I would like him to understand I did all of this for him.

That I did all of this because I _love _him.

As for you, Kurt, I want you to be happy. Find someone who loves you and takes good care of you, and be faithful. Don't let him hurt you. Have a nice life. I hope your future husband treats you nicely, or I'm sure my ghost will haunt him and he'll wish he was never born.

And I'm sorry for everything.


End file.
